


Agent Down

by JantoJones



Series: Stand-alone  (The 1st 100) [58]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 12:31:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6704671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JantoJones/pseuds/JantoJones





	Agent Down

Mark Slate brought his car to a stop outside the bookstore and looked over to his temporary partner. Illya Kuryakin had never been an exuberant man, but since Napoleon had taken voluntary leave following a difficult assignment, the Russian was quieter than ever. Until Solo decided to return, he'd been partnered with Slate. The situation was something which April Dancer had not happy about.

"Are you sure this is a good idea, guv?

"I have tried everything else Mark," Illya replied. "Napoleon needs to be reminded about the things he enjoys. This is our last resort. Besides, I'm sure you're keen to have your own partner back."

Slate couldn't deny it, though he had to admit, working with Illya had been an education.

"Okay, I'll wait out here."

Illya stepped out of the car and entered the bookstore. There were very few people inside, so he easily spotted the courier. Taking time to browse the shelves, he slowly made his way to a table in the centre of the store. Once he'd reached it, Illya slid and envelope from his breast pocket and placed it behind a stack of books. Before leaving, he picked up one of the books and paid for it; making sure to look like a routine customer. From the corner of his eye, he saw the courier retrieve the envelope.

Getting back in the car, he avoided eye contact with the British agent. He was doing something he never thought he would. Something he knew Mr Waverly would certainly frown upon.

"All done?" Mark asked.

"Yes." Illya acknowledged. "We'll know in a few days if the message arrived."

****************************************

Three days later the Russian knocked on Napoleon's apartment door and waited. Ordinarily, he would have let himself in, but didn't want to intrude on whatever the American was going through, without invitation. Their last assignment together had not gone well, and Solo was blaming himself. Although his strategy had been sound, THRUSH had still gotten the better of them and the infrastructure of a whole community was destroyed. What they hadn't known at the time, was that there had been a double agent at HQ and Napoleon's plan had been compromised before it had even been implemented. He couldn't have known, but blamed himself for not knowing.

That had been three weeks ago, and although Illya had no problem in stepping up as acting CEA, he would much prefer his partner to continue in the role. He'd tried everything to persuade Napoleon back, but had failed at every attempt. His plan today was risky, but needed to be tried. The door opened, and revealed Napoleon, looking as immaculate as always. A situation had to be dire for him to let his standards slip.

"Illya, why didn't you just come in?" he asked, as he beckoned to man to enter.

"I've come to invite you to dinner," Kuryakin stated, ignoring Napoleon's question. "And I will not take no for an answer."

Solo's first reaction was to say no, but truth be told, he hadn't been out of the apartment for a couple of days.

"Sure Pal, I'd love to have dinner with you."

A couple of hours, and a good meal later, Illya and Napoleon were onto the coffee. Kuryakin was beginning to worry that the message he had sent had gone astray. Or worse, that it had arrived and was being ignored. He was about to give up hope when the person he had been expecting arrived. Claiming to need the bathroom, Illya excused himself from the table, to meet them.

"Your message certainly was a surprise."

"Believe me, it was sent with severe reluctance," Illya said, through clenched teeth. "However, I am certain you are what he needs to bring him back to life."

To say Napoleon was surprised by the unexpected guest would be the understatement of the century.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded.

"Oh Darling, don't be like that. Your miserable partner is worried about you and thought I could help."

Napoleon glared over to where Illya was standing; anger at the Russian's actions bubbling up inside him.

"He called you in, Angelique, despite knowing your side is the problem?"

"Doesn't that tell you something?" she countered. "He cares for you enough to come to a person he would kill without a second thought, especially after what I did to him*."

"He did promise to kill you the moment he laid eyes on you," the agent commented.

"There you are then, Darling."

"I still don't know how you're supposed to help me."

"Angelique stood and held her hand out to Napoleon.

"The same way I always do."

******************************************

It was five-thirty in the morning when Illya was shaken awake by his partner. Not realising who it was at first, he reached for his weapon. Luckily, Napoleon had taken the precaution of moving it.

"Get up," Solo ordered. "I have something to say to you."

Illya had a very ominous feeling that the next few minutes were not going to go well for him. Napoleon looked to be quite irate. He climbed out of bed and followed the American to the living room.

"How dare you interfere like that?!" Solo yelled. "What gives you the right to manipulate my life like that?"

Illya opened his mouth to answer, but Napoleon held up a hand to silence him.

"I can't believe you called in Angelique. Why her? Of all people, why her?"

"Because she epitomises everything you need in life," the blond finally managed to say. "She is dangerous, attractive, deadly, risky and in a way you seem to enjoy, comforting. I wasn't trying to manipulate you, my friend. I was simply attempting to remind you of why you do what you do. We had a setback, that's all."

Without warning, Napoleon swung a fist and caught Illya right across the chin. The Russian went down hard. He awoke a short while later on his sofa, with an aching jaw. Napoleon was sitting in the armchair, watching him like a hawk.

"I'm sorry, Tovarisch," he told him contritely. "I'm not actually angry with you."

"Really?" Illya questioned, while rubbing his face. "I'd hate to find out what you'd do if you were."

"It's me I'm angry with," Napoleon continued. "My attitude led you to do something you no doubt found almost impossible."

"Did it help?"

Napoleon smiled, for the first time in weeks.

"As usual, chum, you were dead right. Angelique is almost completely representative of what I look for in life. She reminded me last night that I lost one battle, but the war continues."

"Do I take it you're ready to return?"

"First thing Monday morning," Napoleon promised.

"Good," Illya replied. "April hasn't stopped nagging me since you've been gone. She wants her partner back too. Oh, just one thing. You said Angelique is almost completely representative. What did you mean?"

Napoleon stood and started heading to the door, before he opened it, he turned back to his friend.

"She is everything you said, but there is one thing she will never be."

"What's that?"

"The one person I can trust to always have my back."

 

_*A Merry Dance_


End file.
